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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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"
Day
set
on
Norham
's
castled
steep
,
And
Tweed
's
fair
river
broad
and
deep
,
And
Cheviot
's
mountains
lone
;
The
massive
towers
,
the
donjon
keep
,
The
flanking
walls
that
round
them
sweep
,
In
yellow
lustre
shone
"
--
I
soon
forgot
storm
in
music
.
I
heard
a
noise
:
the
wind
,
I
thought
,
shook
the
door
.
No
;
it
was
St.
John
Rivers
,
who
,
lifting
the
latch
,
came
in
out
of
the
frozen
hurricane
--
the
howling
darkness
--
and
stood
before
me
:
the
cloak
that
covered
his
tall
figure
all
white
as
a
glacier
.
I
was
almost
in
consternation
,
so
little
had
I
expected
any
guest
from
the
blocked-up
vale
that
night
.
"
Any
ill
news
?
"
I
demanded
.
"
Has
anything
happened
?
"
"
No
.
How
very
easily
alarmed
you
are
!
"
he
answered
,
removing
his
cloak
and
hanging
it
up
against
the
door
,
towards
which
he
again
coolly
pushed
the
mat
which
his
entrance
had
deranged
.
He
stamped
the
snow
from
his
boots
.
